Logan Paul and Creators Like Him Are White Male Privilege at Work

In this op-ed, Jill Gutowitz discusses why white male creators like Logan Paul are afforded so much leeway thanks to their privilege

On New Year’s Eve 2017, YouTuber Logan Paul released a video that showed him venturing into Japan’s Aokigahara forest, with full knowledge that many people have died by suicide there. There, he and his team captured video of an apparent death by suicide. Even worse, Logan was extremely crude in his handling of the grave encounter, sporting a novelty alien hat and making jokes.

The video drew understandable outrage from viewers, prompting the YouTuber to release a vacuous and selfish statement intended as an apology. But the message focused on him, his power, and the possibility of forgiveness. While this controversy is a prime example of unacceptable and offensive content, it’s by no means the first time popular white male creators on the Internet have sparked worldwide outrage — but the backlash doesn’t ever seem to inspire any actual change. What’s more, it focused a spotlight on a glaring problem within the creator community: the ubiquity of white male privilege.

Logan did remove the video, after he was seemingly affected by the deluge of backlash he received from fellow creators, celebrities, and the general public. In the meantime, it was up for about a day on his channel (which boasts over 15 million followers) and was viewed more than 6.5 million times. YouTube’s official statement on the controversy reiterated policy regarding gory and violent content, and that that the video was in violation of those terms. But outside of the external social media backlash, it appears that he has faced few consequences other than a "strike" (YouTube has a three-strike policy in which they delete an account if it receives three strikes within three months), as his channel remains intact for now. His apology video, if he chose to monetize it, is reportedly estimated to be making thousands of dollars. What’s more, networks like CNN are running features like “Who is Logan Paul?”, which garners him publicity and results in even more people knowing his name.

To put it plainly: The way the public absorbs and processes scandals from straight, cisgender white men is mired in bias, whether it be subconscious or not; they can skirt condemnation for acts that would likely be career-ending for others. On Twitter this Tuesday, Pajiba writer Courtney Enlow pointed out that Jenna Marbles was lambasted for animal abuse when she accidentally bought the wrong bowl for her fish, which resulted in the comedian making a heartfelt and effusive 47-minute apology video. On the other hand, Logan's legions of young fans are still actively supporting his "apology" — and even going out of their way to troll a Japanese-American vlogger explaining the issue.

He's not the only one to receive this privilege, either: In 2014, YouTuber Sam Pepper was accused of sexual misconduct by multiple women. He categorically denied the allegations, but today, Pepper is still a popular YouTuber. And in February of last year, Felix Kjellberg, known on YouTube as PewDiePie, came under fire for posting several videos with anti-Semitic imagery, which led the Disney-owned Maker Studios to drop the superstar vlogger. YouTube cancelled the release of an upcoming original series with the creator and did drop him from a premier advertising program, however, his channel — and thus, his platform — were left untouched. Just like Logan, it was reportedly PewDiePie who removed the videos in question — three of which had accumulated over 23 million views — not YouTube. In September, he reportedly used the n-word in a live stream, seeming to show not only that his apologies were insincere, but also, his lack of actual, tangible punishment in the form of channel deletion allowed for him to maintain his fan-base.

Similarly, Anthony Fantano, a YouTuber known popularly as The Needle Drop, had an incident after an October 2017 Fader report that the music critic simultaneously ran a channel that catered to alt-right memes, anti-LGBTQ content, and racist imagery. As with Logan and PewDiePie, Anthony only removed the videos after being called out. But he wasn’t apologetic: on Twitter, he explained that he deleted the side channel because YouTube was demonetizing his videos. (The rules behind YouTube’s monetization program that feel confusing and nebulous, and many prominent creators have called them out as such.)

However, the issue hasn't just been isolated to YouTube, either: Viner Nash Grier came under fire in 2014 after using homophobic slurs in a video and saying HIV is “a gay thing," and today, he has a burgeoning acting career. In 2014, another popular Viner Curtis Lepore was charged with raping his ex-girlfriend. (The rape charges were eventually dropped, and he pleaded guilty to felony assault.) Despite the controversy, Curtis’s YouTube channel today has almost 800,000 subscribers.

“More marginalized creators, like women, people of color, LGBTQ people, disabled people, or people who are all four, have to make apology videos for the smallest infractions because their fans expect more from them,” Gaby Dunn, a bisexual author and YouTuber told Teen Vogue. She pointed out a gender-based double standard in between her audience and Logan's, noting, “I've seen women apologize for promoting a beauty product that doesn't work EXACTLY as they described, even if the difference is minuscule.” Gaby fears that fans will be quick to write off women, LGBTQ or people of color as problematic, but not white men. “I think many of us are more fearful of losing our audiences than cis straight while male creators because our audiences are so niche to begin with.” But it seems that Logan would never be held to that standard because people expect him to act outrageously to begin with. Gaby's audience likely holds her to a higher standard. Meanwhile creators like Logan and his brother Jake Paul tend to actively courtthe sort of controversies that would resonate with young men growing up in a society mired in toxic masculinity.

YouTube is an open forum — anyone can make an account, upload videos, and acquire a following. But because it’s so accessible it may sometimes allow for dangerous, violent, hateful people to slip through the cracks, the dangers of allowing massive audiences to access triggering, disturbing, or hateful content with the click of a button are real. It’s high time YouTube revisit its support of popular creators who get views, clicks, comments, and likes. And while people obviously have a right to express themselves, all creators with international superstardom, just from a moral standpoint, should consider who exactly is watching their content and what sort of impact it could have on them.

In 2017, many social media users have called into question how social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook respond to controversial issues. In a Twitter thread, BuzzFeed News reporter Katie Notopoulos predicted that YouTube would begin receiving the same scrutiny this year — and they should, because their history with providing a voice to scandalized white male creators. The intense public scrutiny Twitter faced actually engendered change, too: Twitter finally made an effort to ban those associated with hate groups after extensive calls from social media users to do so. But it begs the question: do social media platforms have a responsibility to censor hate-speech and what many deem dangerous? Right now, social media is mostly a free-for-all, and if social media and streaming platforms don’t take address the dangerous content on their sites, who will?

We inherently vote with our views, so by that logic we must also stand in solidarity with the creators who get it right. We need to let these platforms know that we want to see the women and people of color who are working every day to inspire positive social change, like intersectional feminist YouTuber Kat Blaque, LGBTQ vloggers like Riley J. Dennis, or body-positive advocates like Melanie Murphy. In an effort of resistance, it’s important to uplift these creators and not support problematic creators. YouTuber Akilah Hughes posted a Twitter thread on this notion, asserting that she wants to change the culture that engendered Logan's fame.

While the ways in which YouTube chooses what content is suitable for their audience is confusing, the potential of misuse thanks to the ease of availability of many platforms can be dangerous. Logan Paul’s video was revolting and disrespectful, and his reaction to the backlash was a gross reflection of white male privilege. It’ll be interesting to see where his career goes from here — but, unfortunately, his career will likely continue to flourish.